Wheel of Fortune
by ariescelestial
Summary: Malice is necessary for life, but in excess it destroys lives and tears people apart. [People call us Fear, Anger, Envy, and Hate.] The Other Side of Love: Perhaps it had been necessary. It wasn't for them to know.
1. Anger: From Hell, with Love

**Author's Note:** Lots of swearing ahead. Then again, this is Killer, so that shouldn't be too surprising.

* * *

**Goddess**

Chest hurts. Breathing's a bitch. Hand's on something sticky. Oh, yeah, bleeding from bullet wound.

Look around the crate. Coppers swarming the bridge like ants. Flashlights sweeping this direction, time to move.

Stand up: moving's a bitch, too. Pass another row of crates, fall. On hands and knees, feels like carrying a boulder. Blood drips, drips, drips as a shadow looms.

Surprise, surprise. Not the grim reaper, and not a copper to finish the job. An angel wouldn't stand around with their breasts hanging out. She looks with eyes red as blood and steps around to face the coppers. Idiot, they'll shoot, but warnings don't stop her. Lean against the crates and close eyes. There's hope she's hellbound as well. Lust is a deadly sin, but it's gotta be sinful to make others feel it.

Screams make eyes snap open--they aren't female. She stands while coppers shake and cower. A wave of her arm, a flash of red light and coppers fall, joining ants already crushed. The last one backs away but he's killed quick enough.

She looks back and draws near. Oh, fuck. She isn't going to the pit, she's from it. If she kills coppers, what's she do to crooks? Only one left, she saving the worst for last?

Get up, run! not half a step and crumble. Too much blood lost, too close to death. She must be here to make hell's claim. Both her hands gripping, face inches away, too late for mercy--

Lips meet. Taste of fire and brimstone, a little preshow before the final destination. But the burning spreads, blossoming in the chest, snaking through limbs, a heady rush. It feels better than sex, and not last night's cheap whore, either.

She draws away. Ears are buzzing, but looking down, stomach's sealed up. Can't even tell a bullet's been through it.

This power, her power, to hurt and heal and crush people like ants--it curls up, nestled like a second heart, beating with need.

Standing up, her red eyes follow the movement. She's smaller, much smaller, but she's not intimidated or trying to intimidate. Her power is enough. No posturing, just cool gaze. The strongest woman, and in that moment she becomes all.


	2. Fear: In the Dark

It's dark and cold within her eyelids.

Her shoulders scrape against stones as they drag her soon-to-be corpse. Her mind is miles above, floating, fretting. She denied McManus, and knowing him, he may lash out at Ricardo as well for being her lover. If God is merciful, Ricardo will leave town before that can happen. But Ricardo, while sensible, is a passionate man. If he finds out who killed her, he may seek McManus out himself.

_God grant McManus to be merciful, and for Ricardo to ignore his heart._ And while she's at it, ask for her brother to break out of Alcatraz; all three would require a miracle. That thought tears at her: Ricardo may yet live, but her brother is most certainly dead. He has no way to escape or defend himself.

There's shouting, dragging what's left of her consciousness back to earth. Beneath the din is a more pleasant sound of boots hitting the street, soothing for its rhythm. It seems to match the pulse of her heart, which just shows how close to death she is; a heartbeat shouldn't be that slow. An arm snakes under her shoulders and lifts her up. The pain of this motion makes Edna open her eyes. The woman looking down at her has gray, almost blue, hair and red eyes. She doesn't seem human; is she an angel, come to take her away? But before the question can be asked, the red-eyed woman leans down, seeking her lips.

The touch burns and Edna gasps. It feels like her blood has turned into lava, burning every fiber of her being. It's painful, but at the same time she can feel her heartbeat quickening, strengthening.

When the woman lets go, Edna finds herself rising to her feet. Some portion of her is astonished, but the rest of her thinks nothing of it; standing is a natural act, taking little more thought than breath or pulse.

Behind her is muttering. She turns to see a man looking at her, horrified, as he fumbles with his gun. It takes only a second to raise her hand and from there it is pure instinct to gather the malice and turn him into a corpse.

His gun clatters to the ground and she stares at it. How strange, that just moments ago, her life had almost been ended by one, but she could now strike down an armed man. This strength is a miraculous one.

With that thought Edna's eyes clear and she gasps. A miracle...God has granted her a miracle. "Brother..." she whispers, astonished. With this strength she can save her brother from whatever hit man McManus might have sent. "I've got to find him..."

As she walks out of the alleyway she looks back over her shoulder. The red-eyed woman is following her, and behind her is a sullen looking man with greasy red hair. Are they really angels? How strange...if she had seen them before, she would have been scared of them.

But with this power, there's no need to be afraid.


	3. Envy: Poisonous World

**Author's Note:** The spoilers start coming in heavy now. Though this is set before Las Vegas, it hints at things much later in the game.

Lady is an odd pov character. o.o

* * *

Lady knows she is different from the other beings that resemble her. Within her the malice is awake, rushing through her veins, whereas in the others it still sleeps. 

Ahead, the red-haired man is being playful; he seizes the brunette and pins her next to a dumpster with one hand keeping both of hers above her head. With the other hand he traces the bullet-shaped hole in the front of her dress before cupping a breast. Instantly the woman's malice surges, turning her eyes red. Seeing this the man smirks and laughs before releasing her, and the woman storms ahead.

Lady makes no effort to change her pace, knowing the woman does not have the energy to maintain that speed. These two are strange. They are not like the others. Yet, though she had awakened their malice, they are not like her, either.

Waiting until she caught up to him, the man looks back with a grin. "Hey, Lady, why don't you have some fun with her? I bet you could rile her easy."

He always insists on doing pointless things. The woman at least wants to rescue her brother, an instinct natural to this species.

In that moment the ground drops out from under her feet as water rushes up, filling her mouth and nostrils. No, not water--this is thicker, like a gel, but she is still able to breathe. To her right is a boy, also floating in liquid--but the one surrounding his unconscious form is red, and at this sight she feels a sharp pain in her chest.

"Lady?"

Her feet land back on solid ground and her eyes rest on a black shirt with red stripes before she lifts her gaze. The man is looking at her with a frown, and past him the brunette has come to a stop.

"Are you all right?"

The question implies he thought something was wrong, a valid assumption. A hallucination...and is there a defect in her heart? The will of this world must be poisoning her.

Still, she nods in response to his question and drops her hand from her chest before walking past him. She's sure if she confirmed his suspicion, the man would just do more unnecessary things. This is not the time for that. She needs to fill the world with malice. Then, the will won't be able to touch her.


	4. Fear: Nightmare

**Author's Note:** Once again, some swearing. It may seem unusual for Edna, but considering the situation I decided to go ahead.

I wasn't planning to do this chapter originally, but the events at Alcatraz are a vital part in Edna's story, so I included it.

Killer's description of wearing a hood was inspired by a picture I saw of him wearing a different outfit from the Shadow Hearts Sketchbook. Scans can be found at shadowhearts . beyourtruemind . net (remove spaces), under the Media link.

* * *

It's maddening to be snatched from the jaws of death, to travel from Illinois to California on car and on foot, only to be stopped by a guard. 

"There is a hit man here, he'll kill my brother!" Edna cries.

The bulky man scoffs as the other guards tense, ready to draw their weapons. "Alcatraz is the most secure prison in the states, lady. Your brother's safe 'cause no one can get in or out without us knowing."

Behind her, Killer snorts and she glances back at him. When they had approached the prison he had drawn a hood over his head, letting only a few strands of unkempt hair show. His face is still in shadow and she wonders what he finds so damn amusing about this.

"Sir, please, just let me make sure he's all right."

"Sorry, sweet--"

A knife flashes as it lodges itself into his throat. With a groan the guard falls as the other officers open fire. Lady raises a hand, creating a barrier of malice around her and her two companions.

"What did you do that for?" Edna yells. A loud wail sounds, drawing more officers to the scene.

"You should've realized quicker talk's a waste of time with these bastards," Killer shoots back. With one hand he reaches into his coat, drawing out four more throwing knives. "Now why don't you get going and save your brother?"

"I can't!" There are too many guards, too many bullets; if she takes a single step beyond Lady's protection she'll be dead in an instant. She looks around, turning her back on Killer to figure out what she should do.

This turns out to be a mistake when she feels his hand on her back. "Sure you can," he says, and as simply as that he shoves her, pushing her out of the barrier. She falls on to her knees and closes her eyes. They are going to fill her with bullets, it was excruciating enough being shot once by McManus, to think of the pain from multiple bullet wounds is terrifying.

Below the siren's wail and the cacophony of bullets, Killer's laughter is almost imperceptible. Almost. Edna opens her eyes and sees a wall of red surrounding her. She hadn't known she could make a barrier like Lady could. Looking back, she sees the slouching man's shoulders shaking with mirth. "God damn you!" she shouts. He only shrugs, as if to say she'll be grateful later, and turns to deliver the first of his deadly knives into an officer's gut. Lady's shell may keep projectiles out, but they don't keep them in, and Killer uses that to his advantage.

Edna climbs to her feet and runs. The officers' attention is drawn to the dangerous duo in the midst of them; she finds it almost too easy to cross the compound. She reaches the cellblocks and approaches the nearest one.

The large hand that snakes out and envelops her own isn't her brother's. This man pulls her in roughly, making her body slam into the bars. She doesn't know what he is planning, but it's nothing good, and so she raises her free arm, killing him as neatly as she did the gangster in Chicago. Only then does his grip loosen and she backs away, shivering. She hadn't realized that even locked up, some of these men could be monsters. And they had actually planned on letting that scum back out on the streets?

She continues through the cellblock, warier now. Some men do nothing, quieted by fear, and them she passes over, but many, many more of them scream at her to let them out, shout curses and threats, bang on the bars of their cells. Her heart is already pounding fast from the siren that keeps blaring; at these frights she simply opens a Window, and allows man and beast to decide which is more monstrous.

It's hard to keep track of time in here; the siren seems to blur each moment into the other, and these brutish, filthy men all look the same. None are her brother. They are all trash, thrown into prison for their crimes, and none of them deserve to live.

Part of her tries to hold back, realizing some of these men might be in here for the same offense as her brother--they haven't harmed anyone--or some might even have been wrongly convicted. But every time she looks into a cell and sees a stranger, it seems more and more likely she'll never find her brother, or worse, find him dead. The fear seems to take over, and before long she finds herself wandering through the screams of dying men. She must be dreaming, but nightmare or not, she can't believe what she is doing. This is not her, but someone—no, something else.

Somehow Edna ends up back outside. She's gone through every cell, but Al isn't here. She thinks she should be crying, but the thought that this may be only a bad dream keeps her plodding along. When she hears whimpering, she looks up and sees three of the prison guards backed up against the fence. Only one of them is injured. Killer must have gotten bored. Without a thought she extends her arms, beckoning another beast to this world.

Behind her there are footsteps and she turns around, expecting to see more guards ready for death. Instead there is the strange group she invited to Ricardo's performance and Mao, but the person she notices first is her brother. "It's you! Thank God," she cries out.

"Edna…" He looks uncertain; if she didn't know better, she would say he is afraid, but even if he is, she can protect him. As long as he's alive and well, it doesn't matter.

But the Window is still open, and when the beast emerges, it is facing her brother. All she can do is stare helplessly. It is a creature of malice; she can't kill it as she's killed men. Has she just murdered her brother? No—no, this has to be a nightmare, and she clutches her head, praying God will let her wake up.

The air grows thick with malice and when it thins, she is standing outside the prison. Killer and Lady are in front of her. "You never told me you could do that," the man remarks to the grey-haired girl. Her red eyes flit to him with an obvious answer before she turns away and walks back to the boat they came in. Killer follows, but only takes a few steps before glancing back. "What's the matter with you?"

"I killed him," Edna whispers, and faints.


	5. Fear: Miracle

"So you say your man is in this town?" Killer asks, lacing his hands behind his head. 

Is he doubting her? Really, she's doubting herself, but she can feel her lover's heartbeat as if it's pumping the blood through her own body. "Yes, I can tell. He's after McManus." That's the only reason she can think of for the adrenaline surging through her veins, tantalizing the malice.

The serial murderer groans. "Man oh man...the revenge of the lover is always the worst," he complains, and she wonders what he would know about it. From what she seen of him it's much less likely that he was the one seeking revenge than the other way around and she feels sorry for whoever it was. Killer is far too casual in his murder--this thought startles her. She's seen so much bloodshed since her 'miracle', a disturbing amount by her own hands, that murder no longer upsets her.

Her mind is stuttering, refusing to process this knowledge, and Killer's complaints to Lady barely register. It's only when the red-eyed woman walks towards her that Edna snaps out of it.

The way she is staring, Edna thinks she must want to say something, but knows well enough from experience that she either can't or won't. Whether she is a mute or an angel or a devil, there is no telling. So instead, the brunette speaks to her. "You brought me back to life, didn't you?" The silent woman tilts her head to the side. It looks as though they are both confused, and this mutual bewilderment is somehow reassuring enough that Edna steps towards her and continues. "Yet somehow, it feels like I got something horrible from you too..."

Something horrible that has strengthened her and altered her. If Ricardo saw the changes it had made--if he knew what she had done--would he be disgusted? Afraid? Who wouldn't be? Her pulse quickens as she thinks of Ricardo rejecting her, matching the tempo of his heart. The drumming is so loud it's as though she's holding his heart to her ear.

Lady jerks her chin, indicating a neighboring building with the word "Casino" lit on its roof. "All right, I'll meet you there," Edna lies. Once she finds Ricardo she will have nothing more to do with these two. Even if they did give her life, they are frightening. They are not normal, they are strange, they are people Ricardo would despise.

They are the only others like her.

As she turns to enter the hotel the grey-haired woman seizes her arm. The motion makes Edna start, as Lady's acts of violence always end lives. But as the angel of death indicates the same building again, the brunette realizes she is not being hostile, merely trying to persuade her of something.

"You want me to go with you?" Edna asks. Lady nods, and in that moment a cloud of Malice descends upon Edna, roaring over Ricardo's heartbeat with its rush.

It clears and she hears Killer cursing. He'd taken a step back and nearly fallen off the roof, which at this height would certainly mean death. "Warn a guy, will ya?" he calls.

"I didn't say yes!" Edna cries out. "Why did you bring me here? I have to find Ricardo!" Since Killer's 'helpful' encouragement at Alcatraz, she's tried copying more of Lady's actions, but found herself only able to harm others and defend herself. There seems to be a constraint; after all, Killer has received the same treatment from Lady, but he does not use Malice at all when he kills. His knives are the only tools he uses.

Lady points to the hotel and her accomplice sighs. "Don't tell me we're just gonna watch and wait. That's boring shit."

But the idea appeals to Edna. If she barges in there, searching for Ricardo, McManus' men will try to kill her. She'll have to use the Malice, perhaps too much, and...just like in Alcatraz, she may start killing innocents. She will not have Ricardo die the same way her brother did, not to a monster of her own making.

"Will you send me to Ricardo when he needs me?" she asks, and Lady nods. Soothed by the response, Edna turns and observes the hotel. She can feel a lift in Ricardo's heart as well, a brief absence from the pressure of stress. He feels glad, and Edna knows that if she can see his smile she will be happy as well. If he smiles at her...and doesn't turn her away, or think her a monster...then she can go back to being normal.

The minutes pass by. Ricardo's pulse quickens. He is facing danger, but nothing he can't handle, and the frequent lulls are reassuring. It is when she feels a sharp pang of anguish that her eyes narrow as she pinpoints which room he is in. He is cornered and she sweeps her arm to send a large blast of malice, hoping it will provide a distraction. "Lady, now!"

Awash in red, and it only takes a second to emerge. It has been so little time that debris from the explosion is still fluttering in the air. Already her head seems fuzzy, the fragments floating up more mesmerizing than they should be. Is she entering another nightmare?

"Edna..."

The astonished whisper pulls at her and she turns to see her lover. He is looking at her with surprise, but there is none of the uncertainty her brother's visage held. There is no fear and disgust in his vivid green eyes; instead, both their hearts are quickening. "Ricardo," she says, satisfied.

"Edna," he breathes. This time he struggles to his feet.

"It can't be true. You're dead," a quivering voice says. McManus is trembling as he orders, "Kill her!"

The black-garbed mobsters open fire, but their bullets are easily blocked by the barrier she raises. Ricardo, however, is vulnerable, standing in the center of the room. When there is a small pause in the gunfire she unleashes a wave of malice, killing the gangsters. The same force makes the mariachi fall back to his knees, but his attention is on the corpses collapsing behind him. Oh, Lord, she's done it. Ricardo will think she's a beast. In that moment she feels overcome with nausea and kneels. Her head is pounding--it's her own heart that's thundering; she can't hear Ricardo's. He can't take his heart away from her, she wants it, she needs it. "I'll kill you," she murmurs. Such a simple solution: he can't hate her if he's dead.

Her eyes close tightly as she tries to push the thought away. Ricardo won't hate her, if she only explains, he'll just know she's a murderer and never look at her the same way...no, God, no...

"Edna! What's wrong?" Two hands grip her shoulders, shaking her. "Edna!"

She opens her eyes and sees that his own are filled with concern. Even knowing what she can do, he is afraid for her, not because of her. "Ricardo?"

"Yes," and he smiles and nods and he must think everything is all right. But it's not, because she knows just one look from him could make her lose her sanity completely.

Trembling, she stands, pressing her hands against his chest. "Ricardo, kill me," she begs.

His grip tightens hard enough to bruise. "What?" His eyes are wide, pleading for an explanation. She can't meet his gaze anymore and instead shakes her head.

"I don't want to become a monster." How could she have been so blind? She already is a monster, one that killed her own brother. The throbbing in her head escalates, pressing against her skull.

"Edna--" As his voice softens, so does his grip, and immediately she backs away. The malice is rising, washing over her mind with twisted thoughts. She wants to rip his heart out of his chest and her self-restraint is quickly ebbing.

"Do it... please..." she tells him. The pain and malice crash over her like a tidal wave and she screams as the Window opens behind her. In that moment her resistance crumples entirely. The monster will come. Ricardo will die. If she's lucky the monster will kill her too. And if Lady summons her back, as she did with Al...then Edna will do her utmost to murder the bitch.

She feels as though she is trapped in a current pulling her farther and farther out to sea. Ricardo is holding her arms, but she has already been swept away. His touch vanishes, her arms rise of their own accord, and the malice from the gate drowns her in its power. Consciousness is erased.

"Edna!"

The voice makes Edna stir as she becomes aware of herself, and the two strong arms cradling her. They are blissfully warm, soothing despite the pain wracking her body. It must be Ricardo, and she opens her eyes only to see his shining with tears.

"Edna! Speak to me!"

There is blood on his shirt from where her body has pressed against his. In that moment she understands: the Window she opened did not summon a monster, but channeled the malice to turn her into one. Yet despite it all, Ricardo is alive and well, and she can no longer hurt him or anyone else. This knowledge makes Edna smile. "Thank you, Ricardo..." He must have been the one to stop her, to set her free from the nightmare. She raises her arm to stroke his cheek, wanting to calm him. "To see you...one more time..." She wishes she could explain to him that he doesn't need to be upset. Despite how much the malice corrupted her, God has granted her one miracle: her love is alive, and for this she is grateful. But there's no time to tell him as the room dims and her arm unwillingly falls back. She is exhausted, and drifts away from consciousness as easily as she came into it. There is no fear this time; Ricardo is warm and comforting, unlike the searing malice. "Goodbye..." she murmurs as she leaves this life to go to God.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, a few things about this chapter. I have Edna swearing once again, and she's also a bit religious. Both of these aren't things shown in the game, they're just what I thought of her character.

Some might wonder why she doesn't realize Al's also in the room. It may sound strange, but I think she just didn't see him; you'd think she would have said something after worrying about him and unleashing a monster on him if she had. With him being dead in her mind, her attention is solely on Ricardo and any threats to him. Tunnel vision to the extreme.

I don't think there's anything else to comment on except the "I'll kill you" line. The most obvious target for that line would be McManus, but after watching the cutscene a few times it seems to me like she's looking at Ricardo when she says it. Unless McManus is behind Ricardo, but I thought he was in one of the corners of the room (Ricardo's in the middle).


	6. Hate: Cursed

Breathing heavily, Shania glares at the woman standing past the redhead who struck Johnny and professor Gilbert. After nearly three years of searching for the murderer, she is finally face-to-face with her...but powerless. The Garvoy warrior grits her teeth as her knees give out. She had hoped to defeat the grey-haired woman and finally have revenge. Instead, she and all her companions were defeated by a miserable beast in its final seconds. 

The red-eyed woman kneels down. Despite the desire to kill her, Shania edges away, knowing full well she has no chance in her state. But the woman only leans forward more, bringing their faces closer until their lips meet.

At first, Shania is repulsed, heated by what she thinks is shame--the murderer is toying with her. Only as the spirits stir, their voices clamoring in warning, does the Garvoy priestess realize it was no game. The burning hits her chest, making her gasp as she breaks away.

The scarecrow with red hair remarks, "Damn, Lady, you do have a thing for women, don't you?"

The silent woman stands. Shania can feel the burn and scratch marks on her body healing. She guessed that "Lady" had been the one to give Edna her malice, but she never even thought it a possibility that the woman would give her the same strength--and curse.

Her tomahawks are already in hand as she rises to face Lady. If she will have the burden of the Malice, she might as well use its power. But Lady is not even paying attention to her any longer. She has walked away, now standing over Johnny. The boy is glowing with Malice, something that occurs whenever he is both hurt and unconscious, but Lady's fascination with him and Gilbert's chuckles as he watches the two are disturbing.

"Hey!" Shania shouts, hoping to distract Lady. Before she can say anything else, a knife slashes across her face, cutting her cheek. She winces and turns to the tall man idly fingering knives.

"Most people," he says, "would be grateful. But you're just bugging her."

"Grateful?" Shania spits. "You have no idea what you're talking about--or didn't you see what happened to Edna?"

He smirks. "She turned into a goddess. Though, you killed her...so she was pretty short-lived."

Lady kneels by Johnny, turning him onto his back. Shania has no idea what the woman is planning to do, but she seems to be claiming him. "Get away from him!"

This time, the man targets her arm. Even as the blade hits its mark he moves closer. Before she can react, he has a knife pressed against her throat and wrenches the uninjured arm behind her back, his eyes glaring at her with Malice.

Lady has taken no notice of the brief scuffle. Instead, she scoops Johnny up into her arms while the stumpy professor studies the entire scene intently.

"Let him go!" Fear skitters across Shania's stomach. She is afraid for her companion, knowing that with Lady his fate may be worse than death, the woman can turn him into a monster. Shania will turn into a monster, and with this realization she snaps. Her yells turn into wordless screaming. Malice surrounds her body, causing Killer to jerk away as it burns his skin. He nicks her, but she ignores the blood running down her neck as her red eyes hold Lady's. "Put him down."

Shania sees the woman of malice hesitate, something she hasn't never done before. Then, she lowers her arms, dropping Johnny. He lands on his back and groans. Startled by the easy compliance, Shania hesitates, her rage ebbing to be replaced by confusion and relief--and then something large and hard strikes the back of her head, and she falls to the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is a lot shorter than what I originally thought it would be. I took a long break between the majority of it and the last two paragraphs, so I might've forgotten something. Can't figure out what it is though...gah, I hate when the plot bunnies get covered by dust. :p 


	7. Envy: Discovery

The monster summoned by the lanky man was not powerful by any stretch, but it was strong enough to defeat the nuisances who had attacked. Lady watches as the man strikes a blond boy and scoffs about the strength of the creature, though it's obvious he's pleased with himself for summoning it. Lady's gaze lands on the woman who initiated the attack, who even now is trying to stand, her blue eyes glaring. She has a strong drive; she would be a good vessel for Malice, and Lady steps forward to plant it within her. 

Even as Lady gives the kiss, she knows this woman is a strange one. Something within her resists the Malice, even as the rest of her nourishes it, letting it spread through her body. Lady stands, her eyes still on this strange warrior--until she feels the surge of malice to her left.

The boy is glowing red as the Malice seals his wounds, restoring color to his cheeks. Lady knows she has never given him the kiss and she walks closer to study him. His body has grown since she last saw him, but his face, though leaner, has otherwise stayed the same, and Lady feels the floor giving way again.

She is trapped within the tube again, Will covering her, smothering her, poisoning her. His tube is filled with Malice and inside it, he is completely still. The question 'did you die?' flashes in her mind, accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain to her heart. What is the Will doing to her? Her heart aches despite no injury and she knows he can't be dead--not with Malice surrounding him, giving him life. The only reason he remains inert is for lack of stimuli.

Suddenly the will from her tube flows out, replaced by Malice. His tube is filling with Will; there's a connection between them, but has she poisoned him with her Will or did he give her his Malice? Quiet chuckles from the hunchbacked man in blue snap her out of her daze, and she considers the boy again. He is like her, tainted with Will. From his body, he is obviously worse off--her malice is strong enough to give her a mature body, while he is still growing. Perhaps he could help her release the remaining malice in this world...it would benefit him as well. With this thought, she kneels and picks him up.

"Let him go!" The red-haired man is holding a knife to the kissed woman's throat, preventing her from attacking. But Lady thinks his course of action might be unwise; the woman's blue eyes are filled with fear and gleaming with a certain red light. "Let him go, don't touch him, don't turn him into a monster, you--you--!" Her eyes widen as though seeing something horrifying, and fear is replaced by hatred as she screams. The Malice overwhelms her so strongly it rolls off her body, burning the man holding her. He curses and lets go, and the woman steps forward, her red eyes boring into Lady. "Put him down," she commands.

Lady pauses. The boy is the same as her, she knows it; he was poisoned with Will just as she was. But the woman in front of her has unleashed so much Malice that any procation may result in a transformation. Not only would a fight be troublesome, but it would be a waste of the woman's Malice. So Lady drops the boy, and the woman takes one step forward, her eyes turning back to blue. She cannot understand Lady's decision, but then, she cannot see what Lady does: the tall figure standing behind her as he raises a large, metal stick. A swift strike to the head sends her to the floor. From where she lies, her hand is just brushing the boy's clothing.

The red-haired man tosses the mallet-like weapon aside. His eyes are glowing red with anger. For an instant Lady thinks he will stab the woman, but instead his eyes fix on her. He steps around the two bodies. "What the hell were you thinking?" he spits out. "Giving her the kiss, that power--she's your fucking enemy!"

Lady looks down at the unconscious woman. She doesn't recall this person; if they had met, it had only been for an instant. If the woman bears hatred, it is of no significance--Lady chose her for the fierce desire in her eyes. What is important is the boy. Now that there is no one to object, she can take him.

Long fingers wrap around Lady's shoulder. With a push she finds herself against the wall, staring into burning red eyes. "Answer me," he snarls.

She makes no attempt to escape his grip, though he's preventing her from retrieving the boy. "And just how do you expect her to answer, Mister Killer?" calls the gravelly voice of the hunchback. "She isn't human."

The glare dulls and the grip on her shoulder loosens. "Fuck this," the red-haired man mutters. "I'm gone."

But when he turns away, Lady reaches out, her fingers lighting on his arm. When the timid brunette left them, she had been killed so easily, by these very same people. This man is like her, like Lady; the journey would be safer with a companion, so she does not want him to leave.

The tall, lean man looks back at her with brown eyes. His hands grip her shoulders as he once more presses her against the wall--but this time he leans in, his rough, cracked lips covering her own. She opens her mouth, letting his tongue dart in for a quick taste before he pulls away.

"Your lips are mine," he tells her, his breath hot against her skin. "Kiss anyone else and damn Malice, I'll carve their body into little pieces. Understand?"

She nods, willing to agree if it means he will stay, and he is leaning in for another kiss when someone coughs.

Annoyance flits across brown eyes as the red-haired man turns to the hunchback. "You got a death wish?"

"Of course not," the stooped man titters. "I just thought you should notice that two of her friends are waking up."

It's the cat and the blond boy that are stirring, coming close to awareness. Lady glances at the boy. Because of the Will affecting his mind, he will not come of his own choice, and forcing him would be both pointless and dangerous. She's been delayed too long. For now at least, he will be left free.


	8. Anger: Vow

Just thinking about them makes Killer's blood boil: no mere metaphor as the air around him shimmers with heat. He doesn't notice it, too busy thinking about how he'll kill every one of those punks.

They want to destroy Lady's wish. They can all go to hell, and Killer plans to help them along the way.

His eyes focus on the pillar rising from the salt lake. Knowing his luck, the altar that snickering dwarf described is probably at the top. If those people got here before him, he'll have a lot of catching up to do, and he lengthens his stride, anxious to destroy the threat to Lady's happiness.

As soon as he enters the tower, though, he's blocked by two men who coo like some goddamned rats-with-wings pigeons, nudging each other and whispering about how "he'd clean up nicely, don't you think, darling?" They quickly move out of the way when Killer throws a knife at the one with glasses, who exclaims "now, really!" Usually Killer would slice them both up for being so annoying, but there's no time to waste now.

In the next chamber, a spiraling hallway, there are multiple footprints traced in the salt. Most appear to be made from mens' feet, but two sets are high heels and one can only be described as a freakishly large paw print. It's them, all right, and Killer breaks into a run. Time is running out.

The tower is full of glittering crystals, all different colors, but he ignores them, focused on the path. For some reason the path frequently breaks off, with large gaps between the pillar he's on and the closest one. He wonders for an instant how those brats got across, but soon hits on a solution of his own. He turns back down the path. Stops. Faces the next pillar. Runs. When the packed salt ends, he jumps. The first time the landing's hard and knocks the air out of his gut, but he soon gets up. No matter what, he has to keep moving.

The trip up the tower couldn't have taken more than twenty minutes. To Killer, it takes forever, and when he opens yet another goddamned door and sees the whole bunch of them in front of a small stand, their backs turned to him, he's startled that he finally caught up to them. But as the blond boy lifts up a glowing ring, Killer snaps out of his stupor and throws one of his knives. The ring falls to the ground, splattered with blood, and the boy cries out as he clutches his hand. When his head turns back, Killer takes note of the odd gleam in the boy's green eyes. They've already fought once, and the boy isn't as much of a threat as the Indian woman, but the fact that he uses Malice is weird. Why would the kid want to get rid of the Malice when it gives him power? Stupid brat.

"Pretty good," Killer says. He needs to buy a little time so he can get his breath back. Needs to keep them distracted from the altar. So he talks, as much as he wants to start fighting now. "If you'd been just a hair closer..."

"Come to bother us again?" the mariachi snarls.

Killer's mouth tightens. The only thing keeping him from pulling another knife is the thought of how the mariachi's blood will look: vivid red against the pale walls of Uyuni's tower. Even that doesn't stop the serial killer from walking forward. He wants to show them all what idiots they are for screwing with Lady. "I think you're stealing my line," he says. "All I really want to do is grant Lady's wish. But you guys," and his hand clenches into a fist, "you keep following us around, and messing with our business!"

"Tell me this, Killer," the Indian woman says, and Killer's a little surprised at how calm she sounds. She's angry, but not the raging bitch he's seen before. Maybe she reserves the psychotic act specially for Lady. "What if her wish is to destroy the world?"

Now that's something he hasn't heard before. Is that imp still hiding secrets from him? "She wants to destroy the world?" he murmurs. But Lady's no fool. She isn't planning to die, and if he stays with her, he won't die either. A laugh bursts from Killer's lips as he realizes that the Indian's trying to shake him up, but all she's done is given him more reason to help Lady reach her goal. Destroy the world and all the idiots in it? Sounds nice. "Well. Big deal. As long as Lady wants it, fine with me." Then it would be just the two of them--all he has to do is get rid of Gilbert. It sounds like paradise.

He snaps out of his idyllic thoughts to look at the altar. There's two indentations in it, one already filled by a ring that looks just like the blood-stained one on the ground. "So those rings are what make these ruins work? Hand them over right now. And while you're at it," he says, grabbing a handful of his throwing knives, "hand over your life."

The boy whips out his dagger. The weapon is clean, with no nicks, and shines brightly as though it's never even been used--but that innocuous appearance disappears when it is enveloped by a blade of Malice. He doesn't need to cut with steel to kill his enemies. "No, to both!" he says.

It's the boy that Killer attacks first, and often. Killer can see why the others are fighting, they don't want to die, but this little blond punk grates his nerves. The boy obviously received a gift from Lady, and yet he defies her, the ingrate. But the others command Killer's attention as they rush at him two at a time, the narrow path restricting their movement. The Indian woman transforms into a floating redhead that whips out balls of water hard enough to bruise, while a red clad man who must have gone senile early swings around a sword--still encased in a pedestal.

The path works to Killer's advantage: they can't mob him, and when he lights the whole path on fire they're all burned, forcing them back to heal themselves. But there's seven of them and only one of him. When he burns them, it only takes a few seconds before they're back on their feet, some healing as the others surge forward once more. They're like cockroaches, won't die no matter what he does.

The fight ends when the pedestal swings and catches him on the side of the head. Killer reels from the blow, struggling to stay on his feet, but between the bells in his head and the cuts on his body, he's done. It's over. "How did you..." But before he can finish the thought, his knees buckle and gravity takes over.

He lays there, not really sure if he's still conscious or not. They've beaten him. They are going to crush Lady's dream, and Malice, thick and hot, stirs in his gut. _Move. Stop them._

He stands slowly and opens his eyes. No one is watching him, too focused on that damn altar. How careless. Once again the ring is in the boy's hand. Killer smirks, and then does what he probably should've done in the first place: he charges forward, his body blazing with heat from a fire within. No one stops him, not when the air around him is shimmering, hissing. The boy turns around. Too late. Skin tears and muscle rips before the knife pierces the heart. Killer lets go, chuckling. "Jerk! Should've killed me when you still had the chance." He's already moving back, in case they try to kill him now. But it doesn't look like he's got much to worry about; all of them are focused on the fallen boy's wound. No thera plant or cure spell's gonna fix that.

The Indian woman is kneeling, murmuring the boy's name and reaching out for him when she suddenly recoils. Killer stops in his tracks. The boy is unleashing Malice even now, but it's more than ever before, an entire cloud that lifts the still body into the air and envelops it...changes it. It's a man, not a boy, who lands on the salt floor, and the boy's innocent eyes have sharpened. Killer can't help but move back as the man approaches him. It's that blank expression; it speaks of the disdain a god has for a mere insect--a cockroach--it's about to crush.

Killer's seen this expression before.

"Lady...?" But if the boy is the same as Lady, why is he doing this? "No!" Killer growls, reaching for a knife, even as the man's knee whips up and catches him in the stomach. He flies and hits the wall, hard. He should probably be grateful he didn't fall off the path, but all he can feel right now is the hot anger and the blood welling up in the back of his throat. "Damn you," he chokes out, before escaping through the open door.

They could catch him if they wanted to. He stumbles down the path, coughing hard and spattering the light blue walls with flecks of blood. But they don't follow him, probably too busy with the godforsaken altar. He gets to the first gap in the path and sits down, breathing hard. No way he's jumping it in this condition.

Killer's trying to find another way, but his mind keeps focusing on that boy. The brat is just like Lady, with one noticeable difference: he can be human, and Lady can only hope to be. Killer's fists clench in his lap. That selfish little prick. It doesn't matter if that boy is stronger than him...he'll shred that boy to pieces, if it's the last thing he does.


	9. Hate: Blood

A hushed silence falls around the altar. Everyone stares at the man who had forced Killer to retreat. He resembles Johnny--the pale skin and rebellious yellow hair, at least--but Shania doesn't see the boy she knows in this man's hard expression, as much as she looks for him. Finally, she whispers: "Johnny? Is that you?"

She hopes he'll say yes and laugh about showing Killer. Johnny has carried the Malice's taint for months and never lost control of himself. She had hoped--still hopes--that if she knew why he remained unchanged, she would be able to control her own Malice.

The man with blue and pale skin says nothing, only approaches her with grace Johnny never possessed. He looks the same as the woman who massacred the Garvoy tribe: his movement is full of life, but his still face speaks death. And when he raises his arm, Shania knows what it means, knows she must move, but she stays because--because this is not real, because Johnny would never hurt her. Johnny would not hurt any of his companions.

But when he strikes, she realizes that Lady has finally claimed him, just as she did Edna. Shania scrambles to her hands and knees to unleash the altar's Will, to make sure that even if she dies, the Malice will be stopped.

A week passes to find Johnny once more a boy, at home and in his bed. His chest shows no scar. One could hardly guess that only a week ago, a knife rent the skin and pierced his heart.

Shania's fingers trail down, following the pale skin to light on his navel. His belly was once soft, with a thin layer of fat, but now it is lean and hard with muscle. It is still vulnerable though, a weak spot compared to the rest of the body, and a sudden urge draws her fingers hard against the flesh, tiny white paths marking where her fingernails dig in ever so slightly. Thunderbird knows of the belly's weakness, tells her of red-tailed hawks catching fish from the river and how their hooked beaks sink in easily to rip the guts out.

She withdraws her hand and looks away. She has one prey only: Lady. Johnny has nothing to with this now; while Lady once had a grip on the boy, the Will of Uyuni was strong enough to break it, to purge his Malice.

That may have sealed the world's doom, though--because the Will was not strong enough to seal both Johnny's Malice and the Gate.

She goes back downstairs, where the others are planning what they should do next. Their discussion plods along stubbornly as everyone refuses to say they're powerless, as much as they know it.

"Maybe that woman would know another place?" Ricardo asks.

"We already asked her," Hilda snaps.

Frank starts to suggest Zonda, but Natan simply shakes his head. If Zonda had known of a second altar, he would have mentioned it when giving them the ring.

Shania paces on the wood floor, her stomach tying itself in knots--until Mao places a paw on her arm to still her, the cat's large ears perking up. "Johnny's moving."

"He's awake?" Shania asks. Her answer comes in the form of the sound of feet pounding down the stairs--although before she can actually see Johnny, Lenny rushes forward and embraces the boy in a bear hug, so all she can view is his head and stiff shoulders. That alone makes Shania frown; Johnny usually pushes away from Lenny's hugs, but right now, he doesn't attempt to get away or even tell Lenny to put him down.

When the butler finally does put him down, he turns to face them slowly. He dressed himself before coming down the stairs, but it didn't do much for his appearance. He's pale and drawn, worn out despite his long slumber. "Sorry" is the first word out of his mouth. He remembers.

"Are you all right?" Shania asks. A half-second's hesitance, and she knows the nod that follows is a lie.

"I have to go home." And when several eyebrows rise, Johnny clarifies: "the family estate. There's something I need to check out."

"We don't have the time," Ricardo says blandly. "Uyuni didn't work, kid. Lady's still going to raise hell."

Johnny starts to say something, but then stops, his head tilting to the side as he ponders something. And though Shania realizes he's got a week of lost time to make up for, so it makes sense if he's acting a little odd right now, she's still annoyed. The Will purged the Malice from him. He's normal now. He should be acting like the determined teenager she met, not a little boy who got himself lost.

Then, he says: "I think my dad...I think he did something bad."

"Want to be a little more specific?" Mao asks.

Johnny licks his lips. "I think he might have created Lady."

"Oh my God!" Frank exclaims, and Hilda smacks him for shouting in her ear at the same time Lenny asks to know just what on earth Johnny could mean by that sort of thing and Ricardo utters something in Spanish that is probably obscene.

"Why would your father do that?" Shania demands, but Johnny is shaking his head quickly.

"I don't know. I don't have a cl--"

"What about you? You looked like Lady in Uyuni. Did he do someth--"

"Don't be stupid," he snaps. "I don't look a thing like her."

There is a sudden silence in the room, and Shania isn't sure if it's because Johnny's never spoken to her like that before, or because everyone saw the resemblance between Johnny and Lady.

Natan clears his throat, about as subtle as Ta Tanka. But it works in getting everyone's attention. "You're not certain about this."

"No," Johnny says. "I ... I had a dream about it while I was sleeping. So maybe it was just a dream."

"But you think it true."

The boy nods, his shoulders slumping a bit. "It would help explain a few things."

"If it is true, we may find out more about Lady," Natan says, and concludes simply: "We have nowhere else to go. Let us investigate the house."

No one can dispute his logic, so they do. It is a spacious house, with a gigantic foyer in which monsters gather. The air is thick with dust and Malice--including Johnny's own.

It startles everyone but Johnny when the Malice wraps around his dagger. He readily disposes of the monster swooping down at him, which resembles nothing so much as a sack of blueberry jam, then looks at everyone else. The blade of his weapon is still crackling with energy. "What are you guys staring at?" he says, looking behind him in case there are any more flying blueberries.

"We thought all your Malice would be gone now," Shania says, folding her arms. "Apparently that wasn't true." And she can't stop herself from scowling, even though she knows he'll take it the wrong way and think she blames him. It's just infuriating to know that the Will of Uyuni didn't even purge all of his Malice.

"Oh," Johnny murmurs, his expression curiously blank. "Well. No, I've still got it." He scans the foyer, his gaze falling on the demonic statue on the middle, and his lips turn down in a frown. "I don't remember that..." When he approaches the statue, his footsteps echo until he halts and stomps firmly on the floor. "It's hollow."

"We don't have a basement," Lenny says.

"We didn't," Johnny corrects him. "The statue must be to hide the entrance. I'm going to look for a way to open it." He surprises everyone when he does just that, running ahead of the group.

"Uh, hey," Hilda exclaims, "did you forget the monsters already? Wait for us!"

Shania's uneasiness increases when they find a tome with a black cover, reeking with evil. The malice did not just creep in by accident; someone invited it in. But Johnny seems undisturbed, almost as though he expected it. She only sees how bothered he is when they return to the slot they found in his father's office, just large enough to accept the foul book. Johnny's hand shakes and the book knocks into the wall twice, prompting a nervous chuckle and a quip about his clumsiness from the boy. When it finally slips in, they can all hear the statue shifting, a loud grating sound. After it stops, the relative silence makes Johnny's deep breaths all too noticeable.

"If you're not feeling well," Shania says, "you should go outside with Lenny."

He shakes his head. "This is my house," he says. "You're not going in the basement without me."

The basement turns out to be a strange place full of steel and glass and wires. It reminds Shania of the laboratories in Roswell--only this laboratory has a monster that smells like rotten eggs and stale blood. When it's finally defeated, the odor lessens, though it doesn't clear entirely. She looks over to Johnny: he's breathing hard and the harsh yellow lights make him look ill. Maybe he's going to be.

Suddenly his eyes focus on something and she walks alongside him as he kneels by a picture frame on the floor. He gasps and she looks over his shoulder, curious. It's the same picture as the photo he always carries around, him and his sister and father. Lenny's explaining, but by now everyone can already guess who's in the photo, if they didn't actually know. Shania takes a deep breath. It's a small, yet damning detail; his father must have been the one to build the lab. But she looks up and around the lab again, and she's still not sure what he used this place for.

"Johnny? Your dream was about this place, wasn't it? What did you see?" He doesn't answer at first, and she kneels by him, ready to ask again.

"We got it wrong," he says finally, and he looks at her and there is this strange expression on his face. "We've got it all wrong," and there is a quiet desperation to his voice that says _you have to believe me Shania, please believe me._ "Lady isn't evil."

Her throat tightens, and she's glad that Ricardo beats her to the punch: "that's bullshit. Are you insane?" Johnny's thumbs are white from pressing down on the picture as he stands; Ricardo's hands fly through the air as he demands: "After how many people she's killed, after what she did to Edna--"

"That wasn't her," Johnny insists, "she's my sister."

"Your sister is dead," Shania says, and that was probably the most tactless way to say it, but the crazy talk has got to stop. "Johnny, you said she died, she died three years--" and she halts because three years ago, _everyone_ died.

"We didn't bury her," Johnny says quietly. "There wasn't a body. Shania, just look. Look at the picture!" He thrusts one shaking hand out, offering the picture frame to her. "Look, it's her, it's _her_--"

But Shania doesn't want to look because she knows exactly what she'll see. Her fist flies out and smacks the frame out of his hand, sends it spinning into the shards of glass. "No," she says. "Just stop it! Lady is a monster--"

"She is not--"

"She wants to destroy the world."

"I understand, but--"

"No, I don't think you do," Shania grinds out, "or did you forget that she's already butchered hundreds of innocent people?"

His face is pale, but he's still going. "Shania, I--what happened on Uyuni, if you hadn't stopped me I would've--and you know that isn't me, that wasn't me or else you would've killed me. She's the same as me. Do you want to kill me because I couldn't control it?"

She doesn't have any response for him. Not when she realizes she does want to kill him. She looks away from him, scans the basement. Her stomach churns as she thinks that this is the house where he grew up, and every inch of it is cursed.

"Shania? Shania." He's trying to smile like his question was just a joke, but his lips are trembling. She can't look him in the eye, because if she had to bet, her eyes are probably blood red.

"Sorry," she says, "it's the--the smell, I can't think," and it's the most pathetic excuse but she runs with it because she has to get out right _now_, just barrels past Ricardo and Hilda and everyone else, shielding her eyes with her hand. She feels Natan falling in step behind her as she goes up the stairs. They manage to get through the foyer without meeting any monsters, but she doesn't stop when they get outside. She gets about a hundred feet away from the house, from that womb of monsters, before she sits, clutching her knees, and grits her teeth against the tears.

She wants to kill Johnny. Not because he couldn't control his Malice, no; she can barely control her own right now.

She wants to kill him because he is Lady's, just like she knew all along.

.

**AN:** This took me such a long time to write and I'm sorry about that. The first part has been written for a few months, but sometimes I wasn't sure if I was going to use it. Pretty much, I just played with a bunch of ideas for chapters until I finally hit something that felt right.

I wish the document editor worked right with Safari or Opera, it would've made uploading this a whole lot easier.

Oh well. With this chapter, "Wheel of Fortune" is now three-quarters done. 


	10. Anger: Spells, Steel, Malice

When Killer first spots the odd aircraft, he thinks of the man from Uyuni's altar and a little tingle of fear runs up his spine. This time Lady's not going to be able to bring him back from the edge of death, 'cause if he goes down, she'll have her hands full fending those snakes off.

He focuses on Lady's brother. Knock him down and the rest will follow. But with all that brat's Malice...well, you gotta fight fire with fire, Killer figures; he'll use all the Malice he's got. He'll probably turn into a monster, like Edna, but it doesn't really matter.

There's a sound like thunder when the aircraft crashes into the gate, sending rocks crumbling off of it. Though he looks back, Lady doesn't even flinch at the racket. "They're here now," he says, just to make sure she knows. When he looks back at her, he's surprised to see Lady's finally turned around; not to find the sound, but to face him. And even though her face hardly changes emotions, he can still see that there's a difference in how she's looking at him now and how she first looked at him when they met.

The little imp's always so cocksure, thinking he knows everything, but Killer knows better. Gilbert says she's a creature of Malice, that it's just a matter of instinct she wants to open the Gate, and he might be right about that. But he's wrong to say she'll never become human.

She's already the best human he's ever known.

"You saved me, you know," Killer says, "It's the first time...anyone ever did that for me. That's why..." He looks down at the ground, feeling for a rare change embarrassed. Because it's true that in some way she's not human, and he's got no clue if she knows what he means or if he's just providing some free entertainment for Gilbert. But she is human in every way that matters, so she deserves to know--if he can find the right way to tell her. "I'm not trying to thank you" he says--no idiot goes across two continents just to say 'thanks', "but I'll protect you as long as I can. 'Til I die."

He hears the soft scuff of sneakers, but ignores it, watching Lady as she nods, slowly. She understands then. Of course she understands, she's human, it's just that everyone else is too blind to see. So, Killer muses, he'll just have to rip their eyes open.

The footsteps stop and Killer turns to look at the motley band. The boy stands out in front--his weapon isn't even out yet, the idiot. "So you want to kill Lady, huh?" Killer asks as he walks towards them. "Not a very good brother, are you." That hits a nerve; the blond flinches, and Killer decides to twist the blade a little. "Don't you even care about your own sister's happiness?!"

"You're wrong," the boy shoots back, "she doesn't want to destroy the world."

Killer glances at Lady. She's still standing there, waiting, waiting, waiting for the Gate to open and show her a new world. One where she--where they belong. "I'm gonna help Lady get whatever she wants. I couldn't care less if this world is destroyed!" This world is worthless, anyways, if people don't know what it means to be human. "As long as I'm with Lady, I'm happy."

"I have a wish too," says the woman at the boy's side. Her hands are already on her tomahawks, and she jerks her head to indicate Lady. "It's to kill that woman."

Of course. She's got a one-track mind when it comes to Lady, and Killer knows already that nothing's going to dissuade her. "This kind of talk really isn't my style," he admits, and draws his daggers out. "If you go against Lady I'll cut your hearts out. Now that's my wish." Gilbert, this woman, Lady's brother...the only thing that's human about them, the only thing that's warm is their blood, and he's ready to spill it. "This won't be like last time," he promises himself as the malice floods his body, changes it. "Lady! I'll protect you!" and then there is no more chance to talk: his mouth is gone.

He's not worried, though, because his right hand has elongated and morphed into a blade. In this situation, it's the only thing he needs, and he immediately targets the blond. He's changed too, once again taking the form of a man--not that that helps him much when the heavy bone of Killer's arm slams into him. This time he's the one who grunts in pain, the one who flies into a wall; but unlike Killer, he doesn't get up right away and Killer's ready to make sure he stays down for good. The only thing that stops him is the collective agony of three spells cast at once, a mixture of fire, earth and lightning. Goddamned fucking mob! None of them would last a minute against him in a fair fight, so they use their numbers and press on all sides, bullets here, needle-sharp skewers there, fucking daisies of death from the bloodsucker. Killer slashes his sword over and over, sending them scattering.

But the wind spells whip around his wings, shredding them, and he can't move as fast anymore--and the bullets in his gut, one was like a mosquito bite but ten hurts like the devil--and he knocked the mariachi out but the bloodsucker's at his side, reviving him--and the Gate is on the verge of opening but it won't open soon enough.

Again he tries to focus on the boy, but this time the kid sees it coming and runs at the blade, ducking beneath its sweep and raising his own blade of Malice, slashing it through half of Killer's leg. Killer's knee buckles, no longer able to support his colossal weight, and leaves him wide open to their final wave of spells, steel, and Malice.

Killer knows before he's finished changing back that he's dying. The blood seeps into his clothes, bolding the red and darkening the black. He stands up, trying to see if he still has any chance of picking one of them off. But his body's not cooperating.

Lady. He needs to warn Lady, to save her from these people who won't let her be human. He croaks her name out just before his knees buckle once more.


	11. Envy: Companion

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Tiger, who looked over this chapter for me. Your comments really helped a lot! (Of course, any goof-ups in here are mine.)

"Lady."

She turns to him when he utters the word, just as she always has. But this time she knows from the sounds of the raging combat, from the hoarseness of his voice, that something is different. She turns in the same moment that he falls, his little blades scattering from his pocket.

The Gate is so close to opening; she is so close to being safe from this poisonous world. But he needs to be healed now, so she leaves her spot and kneels by him. Her fingers hesitate on his cheek. It's not the blood that disturbs her, but the absolute stillness. He doesn't stir at her touch--he doesn't even seem to be breathing.

She wants him to look at her, to reassure her that he's all right. Whenever he wanted her to look at him he would call out a word, a special word that meant her and only her. So there must be a special word for him and only him, right? He would have given it to her, she knows, but she can't remember it.

No...that's not right. That day on the bridge, which seems like a dream now, he said he would call her "Lady". And right before that, he said something else: "People call me Killer."

And it's true. The brown-haired woman called him "Killer". So did the dwarf.

"--call me Killer--"

And when she thinks about it, Lady realizes that even though she has never spoken--has never needed to--she can tell how the sounds are formed, how the breath moves past the tongue and through the lips to form those two bursts of sound--

"--Killer--"

Her lips open, and she breathes his name. To her ears the odd sound of her own voice gives the word a mystical quality, like the incantation of a spell.

But not all spells are successful. She knows it was the right word, but he will not open his eyes. For as long as he has been with her, he has always been watching her. Always. If he will not look at her now, when she has made it clear she wants him to, then it must be because he cannot.

Lady feels a swift pain pierce her body, and the second sound she ever makes is a pathetic whimper that horrifies her more than the inexplicable hurt. Because she knows she is not actually injured, and even if she were it would be nothing, nothing compared to his bruised and broken flesh. How can she be so weak when he has gone through so much agony? He is dead because he protected her--and this time the phantom stab is sharper, crueler.

The Malice...if she could only open the Gate, the Malice would give him life once more. But she has no time to wait for its opening. So Lady pours out some of her own Malice out to the Gate as an offering, willing it to open, and the stone begins to move and shift. The Gate opens, and from the world beyond pours out Malice a thousand times stronger than her own, battering their bodies until Lady raises a shield.

The dwarf is saying something. There's laughter in his voice. Whatever he has to say doesn't matter; he was useful at times, but he has only animosity for Killer. Lady slips her arms under the lanky body and rises, cradling him close to herself. He's warm, so warm she can almost think for a second that he is still alive. The illusion lasts a scant few seconds; then she feels the full weight of his corpse on her arms.

Other beings of Malice emerge from the Gate even as she enters. Lady thinks them fools; the world they enter has little of the red light, little to nourish and little to warm. It was blue, and cold.

The best thing from that world was Killer, and others from that world killed him. They will come to kill her, too, but she will deal with them later. She has no time for them now. So when she reaches a narrow part of the path with the trunk of a tree splitting beneath the ground and reuniting over it, she passes through and then places her hand on the rough bark. With a small touch of Malice the tree's branches come to life, twitching as they drag over her body, caress Killer's face. Even the gap in the tree fills with the red light, forming a barrier that will hold those people back.

It will not hold them forever though, and she knows Killer's weight is slowing her down, so when she comes to the next arch of aged and warped wood, she turns that, too, into a barrier with the slightest touch of Malice, and the one after that. She starts feeling an unusual sensation: fatigue. Her foot wobbles just slightly when she puts it down on the ground, but it's enough to make her fall forward. She lands with Killer's stomach cushioning her head, and slowly she shakes her head, rises with him still in her arms, and resumes walking.

She knows she has reached her goal when the trees grow thick around the path, and now they are alive, each branch shivering with reverence as she passes through. This is where she belongs, in the thick of the Malice, and it is here, with her power at its height, that she will give Killer life once more. She places him on the low, wide altar, its surface just large enough to rest his body, and kneels beside him. One hand smoothes the tousled hair as her other hand rests on his chest, supporting her weight when she leans to kiss his lips.

She can't feel his desire like she had in the kisses he'd given her. There is not even a hint of tension in his body, like there'd been when she'd first kissed him. There is...nothing, nothing but the pounding of her heart. She kisses him again, this time longer, but there was still no response. And now she grows frustrated and leans down further, both hands holding his head, her breasts skimming his chest as she presses her lips to his, willing her tenseness (even if it is only from fear) to pass into his muscles, her breath (even as it comes in gasps) to fill his lungs, her Malice (even if it will weaken her) to reanimate his body.

But there is nothing, nothing, no twitch of the lips nor sigh, and she pulls away from his still form. The strange pain returns, duller but still strong. Why can't he live? The Malice overflows, she can feel it seeping steadily into her limbs; but he will not receive any of it.

And she thinks of one other time she felt this ache in her heart, and of the boy immersed in red light; he would not move, either, not even stirring with life. But he is alive, now, despite being poisoned by Will. If she only knew why, she could fix Killer.

Her eyes are wet, like there is something lodged in them, even though there is nothing. Lady lets the tears come down without bothering to wipe them away. She has no idea how to fix Killer. He is dead, and she is alone.

She does not know how much time has passed when they finally come. The woman she kissed asks a question. Lady hesitates--why not give them a chance to attack, to maim, to kill?--and then she turns to face the people who slew Killer, her lips pressed together in grim fury.

But the blond boy approaches her with no sign of fear. He does not even have his weapon out. "Are you...crying?" he asks. There is no anger in his face, only an upward quirk of his eyebrows. Killer once had an expression like that, when he asked if she was hurt. How can this boy have the audacity to mimic Killer when he is the reason Killer is dead?

She reaches up to her eyes, feels the tears, and then snatches them away. She rises to her feet, glaring at the blond--she will not let him mock her, she will not let him mock Killer--and then she raises her arms and screams, unleashing all of her Malice in that terrible sound. She calls out, but even she does not quite understand what will answer until she sees a sphere like the setting sun approaching. The waves of Malice washing over her grow stronger, steadier, resolving into whispering voices of fear and anger, envy and hate.

But even with such Malice, she does not have the strength to win. Or rather, she has the strength--she knows she is stronger than any one of them, even the boy who can change into a man of Malice--but victory requires something else. It takes numbers, the way her enemies split up so that she cannot simply kill all of them in one blow, and cooperation. Even through the haze of red light, she can see how they move in unity, in a pattern they know well and she struggles to decipher. And Lady wonders at what she could have accomplished, if she had done this with Killer; but she had never before realized that this coordination was possible, all moving as if they were the limbs of a single body and mind.

Defeat comes slowly but surely; the orb of Malice shudders under the steady assault, cracks forming in its shell. It ends in a hail of bullets, more than one of which pierce the sphere's core, and the orb falls apart, each piece dissolving into Malice which seeps into the ground. Lady knows that she has lost, but there is no escaping now. So she raises her arms once more and screams, expelling all her Malice in a wave that tears through the air. And she sees two of the men stagger, and the vampire is knocked down by the sheer force, but the blond man is already running at her, his weapon poised to strike. Lady falters when he reverts to his boyish form, and before she can move to defend herself the Malice slashes through her chest.

The force is powerful enough to stop her heartbeat, and she totters on her feet, staring at the boy. There is fatigue and bitterness in his face, yet he still looks sad. As though he didn't want to kill her. But then, why would he--why has he? Because when she crumpled to her knees, Lady realizes she can live no longer. She will meet the same end as Killer.

At this thought, she forgets the boy and turns to the altar where Killer's body still lies. The chaos of the fight has passed over him for the most part, and when she sees his peaceful face, she smiles. He is a little colder now, but it will not be long before her own body loses its warmth. All she can do is hold onto him and wait.

Death does not come the way she expects. She feels Killer's body pressing against her as it rises, and she clutches him, tighter, even as she feels herself rising with him. She looks at him with wonder and utters his name once more, and this time he answers. His face tightens with concentration before his eyes open, and when he looks at her she smiles and presses her face to his chest. She thinks, just before they disappear into wisps of Will, that she might be crying--but this time, it is a good pain. She is not alone.


	12. Hate: The Other Side of Love

When Johnny falls, his dagger hits the ground and clatters, skips away from him and out of arm's reach. Shania releases her fusion with Ta Tanka and watches him. Just watches; she is content that he is defeated. Besides, she feels a strange sense of beauty seeing him lie against the wall, too exhausted to stand. It's something about the tears rising in his eyes, the blood trickling from his mouth, the sweat and gore soaking his clothes. His store of Malice is exhausted, leaving behind only his frailty. His humanity.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" he murmurs.

"No," she says. Softly; as though she is afraid to hurt his ears, too. "I don't want to."

His eyes find her face. He laughs, softly, the sound dying in the dim space. "Then what...what was all this for?"

"You know," she tells him, because he must. Why won't he thank her? She kept the promise. "I could see the Malice in you, rising. Consuming you."

He does not breathe his gratitude. Instead he leans his head back and again laughs, louder, his blood thickening the humor. Finally he coughs and drops his head and wipes his mouth with one weary hand. Red still streaks his lips. "Sure you weren't looking in a mirror?"

Her hands find her tomahawks without any guidance, but Shania remains in place. He must think her the monster, she realizes; he never could feel the corruption of Malice. How could he? He is Lady's brother; he was swallowed whole by the red light years ago.

It does not matter. She presses her lips shut and holds the rebuke in, knowing this: it does not matter. He will die soon enough, and then he will truly be free. They will both be free.

Johnny looks at her with narrowed eyes and then, suddenly-her hands seize the tomahawks' handles-he presses his hand against the wall at his back and forces himself up, knees shaking, shirt blossoming with blood. Only halfway to his feet, he staggers and falls back down, clutching his right ankle as his face twists with agony. Shania does not remember when he injured it, but she is glad that at least she need not break him any further.

"Cruel," he murmurs, his lips curling, as twisted as his amusement. She was wrong; even now, with the Malice beaten out of him, he is still not human. Not when he can smile through teeth stained with his own vitality, like a corpse with a rictus grin. "I can't believe..." He coughs. "Crueler than Lady."

Her lips feel bruised from pressing against each other. "Take that back, or I'll..."

The threat is childish of her, really; part of her knows it is pointless to mind a false accusation, especially one made by a boy moments from death.

But the smirk on his face grows. His hands clutch the fabric around his ankle tightly, as though fighting some manic joy. "Or you'll kill me quick? Even Lady had that much kindness."

That small part of her grows still and silent, stamped out by her shoes pounding against the pavement. "If you want death, I'll give you it," she growls, and when she is in front of him she reaches down with one hand and drags him up by his hair. But even as she grasps her tomahawk, prepared to end his life in one last strike, there is a flash of light-a sharp stinging across her thigh-a knife in Johnny's hands. For a fraction of a second, her eyes dart to the blade on the floor, disbelieving. Where did the second knife come from?

_He hid it in his shoe_, Shania realizes, but this knowledge comes much too late. She stumbles from the cut and he rises-so fast-to deal another one, this time aiming into her gut. He is so feeble that the blow is weak and misguided, shallow, easily handled had she time; but his legs give one last push, felling them both, and when he lands on top of her, his weight drives the blade deep so that not one inch of steel peeks out. She screams when he grasps the knife and wrenches it, twisting as he pulls it loose and lets the blood pulse out.

La Sirene, she thinks, and reaches out for the spirit; but the fighting has exhausted her, too, and no fusion will come. Instead she reaches for the knife and grasps both his hand and the handle, holding them in place. His grip is surprisingly slack.

"Now," he breathes, so softly she must strain her ears to listen even though he is lying on top of her. "Now you can kill me, if you'd like."

"You'll die anyways." She wonders if her death is a foregone conclusion now, too, and finds it does not bother her. The only thing that matters is destroying the Malice. It was for that reason she lured Johnny into the abandoned theater, to the pits where she could attack him as Thunderbird. He was becoming corrupted, so she had to...

...except, now that his weight is pressing down on her, their blood mingling with each other's, she can't remember when she noticed his debasement, or how. Perhaps it is death's approach making her forget, but it doesn't seem right-that was something important-that was the most important thing, and yet, now-

Her eyes widen when the truth hits her and she groans, not from Johnny's weight but from the load of her conscience. "Johnny-Johnny, I, I'm sorry-" and it sounds so ludicrous to her, but what else can she say? She's murdered him, a boy who had never threatened anyone.

His free hand finds her chin, then her lips; he presses two fingers to them, and the tang of copper hushes her. "Had to die sometime," he murmurs. "Hey, at least we didn't...didn't hurt anyone else."

Cold comfort. Maybe it was necessary for Johnny to die, just as it had been necessary for Lady to be killed, but she knows that isn't the reason why she attacked him. "I couldn't look at you," she murmurs. "Not without seeing her."

He does not ask who 'her' is, because when it comes to Shania, there is only one 'her'. "Our faces," he offers as a tidy, neat explanation which does not pin blame on anyone.

Awaker, Shania thinks, but does not say.

"She's not a monster. Never was, just..." Johnny lets the words drift away, lacking the energy to pursue a tired argument. "You'll see. When we meet her."

Idiot, Shania thinks, and this she does say aloud. "Idiot," she repeats, the rebuke strong and loud, but it only hangs in the air, lacking direction. She cannot decide if he is the fool or she; he for being so trusting, and she for never fully deserving that trust.

"Please..."

"You'd have to introduce us," she whispers. "I'd like that."

The last thing she knows, felt more than seen, is Johnny's bloodstained lips curved into a true smile.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**Really all thanks go to Tiger once more-this time for reminding me the chapter existed, as I'd completely forgotten actually writing it out. As for why it was never posted, oh...six years ago... it was intended to be the thirteenth chapter, with a twelfth in-between; the twelfth for Shania's third chapter, and the concluding thirteenth Johnny's sole chapter. However, I think it's apparent enough how this could have resulted from FtNW's bad ending, so twelfth and final it will be. (And yeah, this mini-series was always going to end badly, given its focus.) If you actually read this, I'm glad you still enjoy the series.


End file.
